A single, rural mama's ramblings about parenting boys, finding herself (oh brother), struggle and joy, juggling more jobs than you can shake a stick at, creativity as we attempt to not only survive but somehow live a fulfilling and rich life below the poverty line, humor as a coping mechanism when you'd be a basket case otherwise, and all the beauty that IS.

Saturday, August 31, 2013

I have never yet failed to check the bathroom closet at work for psycho killers. Several times a day, even. It's not really in my job description…just a freebee I'm throwing in for the good of the general public. So, anyone who comes to MY museum can rest assured that there are no psycho killers in at least the ladies rest room.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Wow, do I actually have a first grader and a third grader? They were just born yesterday, I swear! Eli is upstairs with the "big kids" now and has a locker, an actual LOCKER. (Waaaaaaa! I feel old!) Ira's teacher greeted us at the door with a little, fuzzy bunny and won his heart immediately. I have no worries whatsoever this time around. Last winter, Eli went from a non-reader to reading at a junior high level, and Ira is also brilliant, so we are SET. They love all the teachers, their friends are sweet, soccer season is coming up, and I'll be working there again as soon as the museum closes for the season. Pretty peachy, really.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Six and nine years ago, (pretty much right about now) I went into labor with my kiddos...yup, they have the exact same birthday, August 26. (Both born the same hour in the morning, even!) Eli picked me up earlier just to prove he could, and we share the same size shoes and t-shirts. He holds my hand when I look glum and tells me he loves me every day. He's wise beyond his years and such a comfort. He reads long stories to all his little cousins and nailed the target with every arrow he shot out back this evening. He's precise and patient and strong and smart and thoughtful. Ira sings these amazing made-up songs that have me doubled over with laughter, he climbs in bed with me every morning at 5AM, like clockwork, where he tangles my hair up around his fingers while whispering jokes that make no sense. He makes everyone laugh and has the softest skin and tiny freckles spattered on his kissable nose. He's a goof and a clown and a cuddler and a charmer. They are the two most special gifts I've ever received and have been my saving grace and sanity through rotten times. I love, love, love them beyond words. If anyone wants to know what the secret to happiness is...what the meaning of life is...what the whole point is...why we get up each day...best I can figure is: it's this.